


A Rainbow of Roses

by doridoripawaa



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Contestshipping, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Pokemon, Roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25188556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doridoripawaa/pseuds/doridoripawaa
Summary: A rose is worth a thousand words.
Relationships: Haruka | May/Shuu | Drew
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	A Rainbow of Roses

On their first date, Drew brought May a bouquet of roses.

Part of him worried that bringing a whole bouquet would be a little too flashy for a first date. _'Flashy is your style, you hopeless romantic,'_ a nagging voice whispered in the back of his mind. He had to admit that was true; he was a Pokemon Coordinator, and so he had learned to adopt an outward persona that would always shine on the stage, drawing the spotlight and drawing the love and attention of the judges.

With May, however, he didn't need to put up any false pretenses. Clearly she cared about him for who he was, right? Otherwise she never would have agreed to go on a date with him, right?

Nevertheless, he felt the urge to convey to her just how important their relationship was to him. Their rivalry. Their friendship. Their... what should he call this, exactly? Budding romance? Blooming affection? Blossoming attraction?

Whenever words failed him (and that was more often than he cared to admit), Drew preferred to communicate in other ways. A smirk. A flip of the hair. A roll of the eyes.

A rose.

He had given her single roses on countless occasions - probably enough to make a whole bouquet by now - but now more than ever, he needed to express to her just how much she meant to him. Now more than ever, he lacked faith in his ability to find the right words.

And so he brought her a bouquet of pink roses. Pink for his admiration. Pink for her elegance. Pink for the blush that crept across his cheeks whenever he thought about her. Pink for her soft, supple, sweet lips.

Maybe he'd even get to kiss her tonight.

 _'It's the first date,'_ he reminded himself, shaking his head as he walked up to her doorstep. He clutched the rose stems in close to his chest, and he wondered how his pounding heart didn't burst through his ribcage and knock the flower petals clean off the roses. His free hand was shaking uncontrollably, and the amount of effort he needed to muster in order to ball his fingers into a fist was almost embarrassing. After a deep breath and a hard swallow, he reared back his hand and knocked on her door.

Part of him was tempted to push the roses behind him. Tempted to throw them to the side. Tempted to forget they existed.

When he saw the pink on her face, though, when her eyes landed on him and then on his bouquet, he knew he had made the right choice. "You match," he commented casually, and for a moment he thought she was about to smack him with her purse.

"You're one to talk! Your blush is a deeper color than a pecha berry!"

* * *

They fought today.

This wasn't the first time that May and Drew had disagreed on how to raise their Pokemon or the best strategies for battle, but apparently Drew had struck a nerve when he called May's technique "flimsy." Of course he had; she had probably spent her whole life subjected to the expectations of others, being the daughter of a gym leader. Of course she was going to be defensive about her methods. Besides, the issue wasn't that her strategies were lackluster; her numerous victories over him confirmed quite the opposite. He just felt that they weren't efficient.

"Why does she have to be efficient?" he muttered. As he stepped out of the store, a soft ringing emanated behind him from the windchime on the door. "She can take her time. Your way isn't the best way for everyone." He hated saying these words aloud. He wanted to be the best, at all times. He wanted to be the Top Coordinator. Whenever he perceived a flaw in his training or technique, he immediately jumped upon it in order to fix it. All of the chinks in his armor needed to be filled.

The words "I'm sorry" didn't come easily to him. His pride and his arrogance kept him upright even when the world tried to knock him down. At this point, he was no longer even sure if they were part of his act or if they had become a genuine part of his character.

For May, though, he could let the curtain fall. He could be vulnerable. He was willing to see that maybe, just maybe, for once, he was in the wrong.

Red was the color of anger. The color of (boiling) blood. The color that his face and his hands took on when he began to scream, shout, and get swept up in his ire.

Red was also the color of passion and the color of love.

When he entered the living room, May sat on the opposite side of the couch, her eyes glued to her magazine. She didn't even want to look at him, apparently. Should he speak to get her attention? Should he give her space?

Drew held out a bouquet of red roses, hoping that they would say more than he ever could.

The red lipstick that began to pepper his face convinced him that she accepted his apology.

* * *

Mornings were not May's forte.

She rubbed her eyes for what must have been the fifth time that morning as Drew dragged her out onto the beach. "Dreewww," she wailed. "We can go to the beach in like, three hoouurrsss."

"Three hours is too late!" he insisted, and then his voice softened as he murmured, "I want to show you something. Please. Keep your eyes closed for now."

May groaned again but didn't say anything else. She just trudged along across the sand, half-walking, half-stumbling, as Drew continued to usher her out into the open. He navigated carefully, guiding her around rocks, seaweed that had washed ashore, abandoned shoes, and even a small Corphish that was wandering about.

"We're here," he breathed. "Open your eyes."

May rubbed her eyes again and slowly opened her eyelids, adjusting to the light. Her eyes flew wide open when she saw the spectacle before her, though. The ocean stretched out before her in all directions, and the waves lapped gently up against the sandy surface, undisturbed by any boaters or swimmers at this hour. Reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks melted across the sky and reflected off the crystalline ocean surface, creating a marbled, pastel display that looked as though a painting had come to life.

"The sunrise," she whispered. "A beach sunrise."

The sudden squeeze on Drew's hand caught him off guard, but he returned it affectionately. "That's not all," he murmured. "In this spot, in particular..." He tugged gently on her wrist, and the brunette followed him eagerly. Carefully he began to walk onto the rocks that lined the far edge of the beach. He tried to maintain his poise as he picked his way through the rocky terrain, but the rough edges and steep slopes admittedly intimidated him.

At least May seemed to be having a good time. She leaped from rock to rock like a Mankey, as if she were jumping on clouds. "Are we there yet?" she asked, peeking around the sides of the boulder in front of them. "You know, if you got out more often, you'd be able to maneuver around here more easily," she pointed out casually.

Drew pinched her palm and then raised a finger to his lips. "We're almost there," he whispered. "I need you to be quiet. You know, if you stayed inside more often, you'd find some pleasure in silence." Even though he had turned his head to look at the rocks below, trying to find the best way to head downward, he could imagine the frustrated and flustered look on May's face after he turned her own words against her. "Okay," he breathed. "Look... right there." Gingerly he put a finger to his lips, then he reached out and pointed at a particularly turbulent section of waves beneath them. 

May raised an eyebrow but obeyed, turning her gaze onto the sea. She nearly stumbled backward when a Milotic suddenly jumped out from the seafoam, sending water splashing everywhere. The oranges and pinks of the sunrise reflected off of its sleek, scaly body, creating an iridescent prism of light that shone onto the rocks around them. 

The brunette spun around to face Drew, her blue eyes glittering like sapphires in her excitement. "Did you see that?" she mouthed.

"There's more," he mouthed back, and he pointed to the waves again. Sure enough, a second Milotic jumped out of the water, and the two Pokemon began to swim in circles around one another, creating a light display that rivaled any contest appeal.

"A family," May breathed. "A family!" Small Feebas had begun to pop up from behind the rocks, blowing bubbles and splashing around enthusiastically as they waited for their parents to notice them. Her gaze softened, and she squeezed Drew's hand once more, albeit more gently this time. 

When they returned, he gave her a bouquet of orange roses. Orange for excitement. Orange for the beach. Orange for not just this sunrise, but for the many more that awaited them.

* * *

Caring for a Flygon was not easy.

"A sand bath?" May echoed. "I know that Flygon grow up in deserts, but I didn't realize that sand was actually good for their skin."

Drew simply shrugged as he packed water bottles into the saddle he had latched onto his Pokemon. He reached up to stroke his hand down the dragon's neck, and the dragon cooed affectionately at the gentle touch. "They're surprisingly high maintenance," he responded simply. "Much like someone else I know." His eyes glittered with mischief, and he cast a cheeky grin in May's direction.

She folded her hands across her chest and turned away. "Well, I was going to ask if you would like my company, but I guess I'll leave you to roll around in a sandstorm without me."

Drew opened his mouth to provide a witty retort, but he caught himself when Flygon nudged his shoulder. The green-haired trainer clamped his mouth shut, biting back any stinging reply he might have prepared for her. "Well, actually," he began, as a large, scaly head prodded his shoulder once again, "I would... that is to say, Flygon would love to have you join us. You uh... you make Flygon very happy."

May cocked an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?" she murmured. "Then we're going to need more snacks." She began to walk over to the pantry, but before she poked her head in to start rummaging around, she leaned back and narrowed her eyes at Drew. "Just so we're clear, I'm doing this for Flygon."

When Drew brought her a bouquet of yellow roses the next morning, to express "Flygon's" gratitude for her company and for how happy she made him, the coordinator made a point of mentioning that the roses were for Beautifly.

* * *

"I've seen brown thumbs before, but I've never seen a black thumb."

May began bowing profusely, rambling on and on about "accidents" and "overwatering" and "that she didn't think cacti were so difficult to care for." Drew did his best to tone her out, still assessing the damage. May had been begging for ages for him to let her assist in his garden, and so he had assigned her to what he believed to be the easiest type of plant to nurture: cactus.

So why was he surrounded by wilting succulents and soggy spines?

"How did you ever raise a Venusaur?" he muttered, running his hand through his hair to pull his sweaty bangs out of his face. He finally turned to look at May, who had now clasped her hands together as if she were praying for forgiveness. "Hey. Don't look at me like that." Her eyes were as wide as Poke Balls as she turned her pleading expression onto him. With a sigh, he picked up a spade and handed it to her. "I'm going to see if any of these can be salvaged. Let's go to the florist today and pick out some new ones." May's jaw dropped, and he frowned at her sudden change in demeanor. "Don't slack off!" he snapped. "I'm giving you a second chance, okay?"

"I won't let you down!" May exclaimed, and she raised her spade triumphantly into the air as though it were a sword. "But I'm kind of surprised that you're letting me off so easily."

"You've given me plenty of chances," he muttered under his breath. "I want you to learn," he went on, louder this time. "This is a learning experience. Now that I know exactly what you're capable of, though, my supervision will be a lot more constant and a lot more critical."

May pouted. "You really don't trust me?"

"After this, I'd sooner trust Harley with my cacti. At least he raised a Cacturne."

When they left the florist with half a dozen new succulents, they also left with a bouquet of green roses, to remind them of the garden that they were going to raise together.

* * *

Sorrow. Grief. Misery. Depression.

Drew couldn't bear to see his beloved in this state. She was always so upbeat, so optimistic, so fiery, so sassy....

"We'll get through this," he whispered as he slid onto the bench next to her outside of the ICU. "This is the top-rated Pokemon Center in the entire Hoenn region, with the most skilled staff of nurses and doctors. They'll save him."

She didn't respond. She just buried her head into his shoulder, allowing her tears to silently fall.

He put down the bouquet of blue roses beside her wordlessly, and held her in his arms throughout the night.

* * *

"Dear Princess of Hoenn."

May snorted and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, you know that nickname makes me blush!" she laughed. "I know that's what everyone decided to call me after I won my Grand Festival, but it's kind of silly, isn't it?"

Drew shook his head. "Oh, quite the contrary," he insisted. "You do carry an aura of elegance that befits royalt- get your fork off of my plate."

May's face flushed a deep crimson, and she pulled back to return to her own meal. "Sorry. I know you don't like mushrooms, so I thought I'd give you a hand. What were you saying?"

"... elegance, May."

"Oh, yeah. I'll take your word for it."

Even scarfing down her meal, she really did carry a mystical, regal air to her. Maybe that was how she had enchanted him in the first place.

If nothing else, the bouquet of purple roses that sat as the centerpiece for their dinner date gave off vibes of possibility, of royalty, of romance, of hope, of-

"May, wait until I say I am finished!"

* * *

White tables.

White chairs.

White suit.

White dress.

White veil.

White diamonds.

As coordinators, May and Drew were usually flashy, colorful people. But on their wedding day, all Drew needed was a bouquet of white roses.

* * *

This hill had gotten taller since the last time he had visited.

Drew clutched the rose stems in his hand a little more tightly as he trudged up the steep slopes. No matter what, he refused to let these roses fall. Today was their anniversary, and he refused to miss this date.

The sun was setting slowly but surely as Drew dragged himself upwards. His breath was coming in short, ragged gasps, and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. Maybe he should have let one of his Pokemon give him a ride.

He wanted this day to just be about the two of them, though. He wanted to be alone with her.

The petals on the sakura tree were coming into view, and Drew's lips spread into a small smile. He was almost there. Their soft hue pushed him onward, as he began to imagine the pink of May's lips, the pink of her cheeks, the pink of the sunrises and sunsets they had watched together, the pink of the bottle of rose that sat in his picnic basket. Had he brought enough food? Even though he didn't have quite the appetite that May did, Drew had a feeling that he would need some extra fuel to help him maneuver his way back downhill. Then again, going down was easier than going up.

The first stars had begun to glisten in the sky by the time Drew arrived. "The sun didn't set yet," he murmured, and he breathed a gentle sigh of relief. Carefully, he reached into his basket and began to organize a little table setting: a blanket, a sandwich, a bottle of rose, berries, pasta salad, and two cupcakes. He knew that she would have insisted upon getting the cupcakes with chocolate frosting, but red velvet was all that the bakery had in stock at the time. Nonetheless, he felt like she would appreciate them; they were red and white like her bandana, after all. "It's for the aesthetic," he could insist.

Anxiety began to gnaw at him, and his grip on the roses tightened once more. He didn't even realize just how firmly he was gripping them until he felt a thorn pierce his skin. His eyes grew wide and he quickly thrust the bouquet into his other hand so that he could inspect the damage. The thorn had drawn a bead of blood, but luckily, he didn't seem to be dripping. The roses had escaped unscathed.

As he caught sight of the moon, Drew allowed himself to smile once again. The soft white beams shone down onto the top of the hill, casting everything in a sleek silver glow.

"I made it," he whispered as he set out the bouquet of roses. "Are you proud?"

A drop of blood finally dripped from his old, worn finger.

A drop of water finally dripped from his old, worn eyes.

"Happy anniversary, May."

When he left for the night, he left behind a red velvet cupcake and a bouquet of black roses on her grave.


End file.
